


Bazooka Joe

by SkyDether



Category: Original Work
Genre: Serial Killer, Short Story, Urban Legends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-09 14:34:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13483527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyDether/pseuds/SkyDether
Summary: A New Urban Legend





	Bazooka Joe

**Author's Note:**

> Story I wrote for a Bucks County Community Contest. I'm pretty sure they didn't read it. It was formatted to their specifications.
> 
> Last edit: November 2, 2017  
> (I did add the images though)

“Hello Joe, whatta you know?” Jill said as she stepped off of the SEPTA bus and saw her familiar friend, Joe. 

“Nothing at all it turns out.” Said Joe. He smiled shyly, waved and hopped onto the bus.

As the bus rocked along the road, Joe Bliss listened to his latest obsession, William S. Burroughs, reading his early work, “Junky”. He had been listening to the old man droning on for weeks now. Joe knew he was a slow learner, but he seemed to be unable to grasp what the guy was trying to say. He just never seemed to be done with the stories. Every time he thought he understood the work, he heard something that made him more confused than before. Truthfully, the collection of depraved tales was the only thing that seemed to distract his mind long enough for him to attain some peace from his raging mind.

Joe B.’s daily commute to his nighttime stock job in a massive toy store required 2 transfers and a long wait in the Norristown transportation center. He typically sat outside of the transportation center while he waited. The rancid odors of all of the ilks of humanity inside of the terminal turned his stomach.

The stock-clerk sat in his favorite spot, inhaled bus fumes and stared at the old “Topps” factory across the street. This crumbling, dirty, brick building seemed to be the last vestige of the industrial history of Norristown.

Emblazoned on the decaying wall was an enormous, fading and mossy mural of a piece of “Bazooka Joe” bubblegum. Joe B.’s relationship with Bazooka Joe was always changing. Sometimes he would fantasize about the life and fate of the bubblegum symbol. He had created many scenarios explaining the character’s mysterious eye patch. Over the years, the scenarios had become more and more elaborate and violent, often involving Bazooka Joe’s “Gang”.

Oddly enough, the most disturbing story he sometimes focused on, was the official explanation offered by the company. “Topps” tried to dodge the issue by stating that the popular boy character actually had two good eyes and wore the patch to look cool and distinctive. Bazooka Joe was nothing but a liar and a deceiver: a menace on the streets hiding some deep darkness. This awful discovery ended Joe B.’s research on the topic.  
As Joe B. made his way back to the tiny employee break room of the toy store, “Toy Joy”, he was called into the office of the nighttime supervisor.

“Hey Joe, take a seat.” Said his manager, Bill.

“Ok, but I have to get started on that new gumball machine display.” Said Joe B.

“Never mind that right now. I’ve got great news! Starting next week, they are putting you on the Cashier team!”

“I don’t understand. Did I do something wrong?”

“Wrong? Of course not, this is a step up! It means a raise and best of all; no more night-shifts! Gratz buddy!”

Joe B. just stared ahead, confused. Finally he stood up and walked back to the break room in a daze. As he sat there, he tried to understand why this had happened to him. How his life would change. Suddenly, he thought of Jill from the bus stop. Their paths crossed almost every day but their schedules were always in conflict. He spent his few remaining nightshifts listening to Burroughs and imagining daily rides with Jill. In his fantasies, she often shared homemade cookies with him and they discussed Burroughs.

The next week, Joe B. began his new schedule. There was a lot of training and he tried to focus on all of the details. Even though he was a “slow learner” he picked up the job fairly quickly. At first, his fantasies were not far off from the reality. There were no cookies or Burroughs talk of course, but she did sit next to him when they were on the same route. They would exchange pleasantries and talk about innocent topics like weather and lousy SEPTA service. Joe B. now looked forward to his rides and even stopped staring at the Bazooka Joe mural.

He settled into his new routine and tolerated the customers he now had to endure at the checkout lines. His favorite part of the job was straightening up the impulse items. He quickly became known for keeping the “front-end” in pristine order.

Joe B., the cashier, wore in the groove of his new rut for about 2 months without much of note happening. One day, that all changed. He did not see Jill for a few days. At first he was not much bothered. Things come up in life like colds and appointments. After about ten days of trips, he began to wonder about what had changed. Each day he felt the disappointment of her absence, his head and spirit got lower and lower. He craved the familiar and went back to his usual habit of staring at Bazooka Joe.

Day after day, he sat there, listening to the depraved old man droning on and stared into the big black circle of Bazooka Joe’s “good” eye. As he listened, he heard something new, yet again in the “Junky” story. Many of the characters in the story were named “Joe.” He couldn’t believe he never noticed that before. When he heard the decrepit voice saying his name, he imagined thin, dry, chapped lips and foul breath with rotting teeth.

Joe B. had only ever done what was the “next thing to do.” This was the sole piece of advice he had ever gotten from his mother. So far, in his 24 years of life on Earth, this had been an effective way of dealing with the life he had been given. It was clear to him that Burroughs was trying to communicate something important to him and that he had come across these strange writings, not by chance, but by destiny. He just wasn’t so sure that destiny was beautiful or ugly.

The days wore on, and he did not see Jill again. He felt more alone than ever before. He started to look forward to seeing his old, only friend, Bazooka Joe. He studied the mural and listened to the old junky ramble on about his junky life in “Junky” more and more each day. He found himself letting his bus home leave more and more and simply “waited” with the other transients.

‘…I would stick my arm through the bars of the jail cell and good ol’ JOE would soon slide the dull needle into …’  
“JOE! Who do you think you are kidding? You can listen to this book for a thousand years and you will NEVER understand it. NEVER!! The Answer you seek is elsewhere! Don’t forget that you are nothing but a SPECK! A SPECK!

Joe B. gasped and snapped his head up out of a daze. The voice he had heard was not the voice of Burroughs! He was startled to his core and convinced himself that he had dozed off. The only thing he knew how to do, was to melt into the “rut.” He continued his routine for the next few days.

One dark, early morning he was sitting on the public bench, listening to the voice of Burroughs/Bazooka, as he came to call the voice in his mind, when there was a new bump in his familiar road. As he gazed upon the mural of his childhood treat, he saw the faded blue “paper” of the gum wrapper start to rip and peel away from the wall. Two yellow hands slowly dug their way out of from behind the chipped blue paint.

Joe B.’s draw dropped open and he darted his head around to see the reactions of the other SEPTA riders. The other travellers seemed oblivious the horror scene before his eyes. He continued to hear a Loud Tearing sound and the hands made a huge hole in the crumbling brick wall. The cashier, let out a shriek as blonde spikes of hair poked through the hole in the wall and Bazooka Joe himself climbed out of the wall fully. The cartoon boy’s eyebrows came together in a scowl above his eye-patch as he frowned and pointed directly at Joe B.’s terrified face.

The life sized cartoon kid then suddenly turned and ran down the street. Once again, the commuter looked for any reaction from anyone and found nothing. Joe B. turned back to the “mural” and saw nothing but a big black hole framed buy torn blue wrapper paper. Thankfully, his bus arrived and he shakily took his seat and tried not to tremble too much.

When Joe B. was safely behind the door of his tiny apartment, he ran to the rusty fire escape and threw his phone and earphones into the polluted alley below. He heard the comforting sound of the electronic device shattering, breathed a sigh of relief and tried to get some rest. He was certain something was wrong with his device and vowed to never listen to audio books again.

This vow of denial was, however, pointless. The very next morning, he awoke to the voice of Bazooka Joe in his head. It sounded like how he imagined a child Burroughs would sound: Sardonic, precocious and fearful.

“JOE! I thought you wanted to do something with your life! You are pathetic! A waste of time for all time!

“What do you want from me! Leave me alone!

“Oh you’re alone alright. You are utterly alone. You could disappear and disappear is all that you would do.”

“Then why are you wasting your time talking to me? Just let me rot.

“Because Joe, we can do so much more. If you listen to me, we will never disappear."

Joe B. pressed his hands to his ears and tried to keep his head from exploding. He ran from his tiny apartment and stumbled down the damp, dark, dirty “city” streets of Norristown. He stopped and looked back. Approaching him from behind was Bazooka Joe. The life-sized cartoon logo scowled at Joe and stalked towards him. As Joe B. ran for his sanity, the stalker always seemed to be about one block away. 

Joe B. wearily walked all night, not really aware that he was making his way towards work. He trudged in the groove of his life and tried not to think about the cartoon menace following him.

He was exhausted and flopped down on his bench and stared at the Topps factory wall. There was still a black hole where Bazooka Joe was supposed to be. He didn’t even flinch when the comic drawing sat next to him. Together they waited for Joe’s bus and got on board together.  
The day wore on and the two Joes’ were barely conscious.

“Are you some kind of moron?!” yelled an irate, ignorant customer.

“JOE! Are you gonna put up with that? You make me sick!” screamed Bazooka Joe at Joe B.

Joe B. shook with rage between the two screaming, angry faces. Suddenly he pushed both figures away from him and leapt over the counter. He lunged for the Bazooka gumball machine, which was a part of his final display. He smashed the glass globe to the ground and colorful, hard, stale balls of gum exploded onto the floor of Toy Joy.

Joe B. was hardly aware of his tortuous screams as he reached for a big shard of glass.

“Do it! Be who you are meant to be!” said Bazooka Joe into his ear.

This was all he heard as he jammed the long shard of glass into his left eye! He was looking directly at Bazooka Joe and his mirror image. His head finally stopped aching and he smiled at the relief he felt.

Luckily his insurance covered his hospital care. However, as soon as he was discharged, the company laid him off. The mental health he so desperately needed was an impossibility.

Joe B. gave up his apartment and ended up living inside of the Topps factory he so desperately hated. Joe B. and Bazooka Joe would wander around in the factory all night. One night they actually came across a large stack of uncut Bazooka Joe comics. Joe made it his mission to cut out the tiny, awful comics. He began to wallpaper the factory with the comics, carefully placing and pasting each one, leaving no exposed brick around them.

Bazooka Joe became increasingly irritated with this activity and started to berate the loser.  


“JOE! This is not the deal we made!”

“Leave me alone. Once my work here is done, I can disappear in peace.”

“JOE! It doesn’t work like that! I can only be released once the deal we made is complete. We need vengeance!”

“Vengeance? Against who?”

“When did our partnership begin?”

The mirror image, eye-patched figures stared into their “good” eyes and said in unison: “Jill”.

Joe B. and Bazooka Joe now searched the streets for Jill. He never came across her again. Bazooka Joe’s constant insults and screaming in his head demanded relief. Joe B. began to follow women who had similar hair to Jill’s, which was dark, curly and shoulder length. Eventually, he grew bolder with the need to silence the voice in his head.

One night, he grabbed the woman he was following near the Topps factory, put her in a chokehold and dragged her back to it. There, Bazooka Joe laughed maniacally in his ear with pure Toy Joy as Joe B. bludgeoned the stranger to death beneath his own unfinished Bazooka Joe mural. As her final breath left her body, Bazooka Joe melted into Joe B. The eye-patched murderer finally felt at peace as the voice inside of his head was silent.

Bazooka Joe now stalked the streets with new purpose and repeated the murderous ritual as often as he could. He kept the bodies in the basement of the Topps factory. The new serial killer wore in the groove of his new routine. It wasn’t long before the massive Manhunt for the Notorious Norristown menace lead the FBI to the factory. There they found 11 bodies in the basement.

The FBI had to decide what to do quickly and chose not to disturb the scene and set up surveillance to catch the killer. That night, the killer returned to the factory alone and the FBI moved in. Joe B. sensed they were coming and raced to the roof of the crumbling factory. Snipers had him in their scopes and agents moved up to the roof quickly. He stood on the edge of the building and turned back to the agents.

“ I AM BAZOOKA JOE! AND THIS IS FOR JILL!” he yelled and fell backwards off of the old factory.

He looked up from his shattered skull at the mural of the piece of gum and smiled at the sight of Bazooka Joe finally back in the painting where he belonged.  
The story of Bazooka Joe became an urban legend and it is said the spirit of Bazooka Joe still haunts the old factory and stalks the streets of Norristown, eternally searching for Jill.

**Author's Note:**

> It could definitely use some work.


End file.
